


Blood Pressure | dreamnotfound

by dreamlure



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, And Lots of It, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bruises, DNF, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fear, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gentleness, Gun Violence, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Obsession, Pining, Protectiveness, Slow Burn, but not a crazy obsession, but they don’t let anyone know, dreamnotfound, its all internal baybe, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:15:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28547727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlure/pseuds/dreamlure
Summary: He never thought that accidentally witnessing someone pay off a cop would land him in the position that he was in.Yet here he was.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

His footsteps echoed off the brick walls of the alleyway, the sound of them mixing with the sounds of the crickets chirping and the frogs croaking. It was loud, yet eerily quiet.

The alleyway was dark, the darkness pressing on his eyeballs uncomfortably. He could see the end of the tunnel, and he had never been more thankful to see the flickering glow of the streetlamp on the other side. 

The alleyway had never felt this tense before. It was a path that George took every night to get back to his dingy little apartment, and it had never felt so uncomfortably spooky before. Never once in his months of walking through it.

“Come on.”

George froze, his body going taut. Someone else was in the alleyway? That wasn’t normal. Not in the slightest.

He opened his mouth to call out a response, thinking that whoever this stranger was had called out to him.

“I really shouldn’t.”

The voice that responded sounded slightly scared, the male having a slight waver to his voice.

George peered around, his eyebrows furrowing when his eyes landed on the very, very faint silhouettes in the darkness. He took a step closer to the brick walls, pressing his side against the hard wall. Maybe if he was slunk against this wall, he would be left out of this altercation.

There was the sound of clothes rustling, then the sound of something being unsheathed.

“You need to take the money, or you know where this is going to go.”

George felt his heart rate speed up, and he brought a hand up to his mouth, deciding that covering up the one thing that would make noise was his best idea.

“I could just, uh, call someone.” The fearful voice sounded in response, and the sound of a beep sounded. A walkie talkie, it sounded like.

“If you call a single fucking person I will slit your throat right now.”

George felt like he was going to throw up. What was going on?

“Who’s to say that when I took the money, I don’t just run off and tell someone about you and your little-“

Sounds of movement came from the darkness, and then a small cry of pain.

Despite the sickness that was rising in his stomach, George still wished that he could see what was going on around him. Maybe it was the sick part of him that wanted to see if this guy had a knife to the other’s throat, pressing against his flesh in a dangerous threat. An unspoken promise.

“Because if you do, I will murder every single person that you love and make you watch. You know good and damn well what I’m capable of.”

What the fuck had he walked in to?

Strangled breathing, sounds of clothes rustling once again, and then footsteps.

“Give me the money. I’ll be on my way, and nothing will happen to you.”

George could feel the satisfaction rush through the air.

“Wonderful. Boss will be very pleased with this.”

The footsteps sounded in opposite directions.

That meant someone was walking towards him.

George pressed himself harder against the wall, squeezing his eyes closed. If he couldn’t see in this darkness, then surely no one else could, right? Surely.

The footsteps continued, getting closer and closer to where he stood, shaking against the brick wall. He had never thought that he would land himself in a situation like this. He wasn’t even sure what _this_ was.

The footsteps stopped next him.

A whimper sounded from his mouth, and he knew that in that moment he had fucked himself over.

He looked towards the person that had stopped, but he was only really able to make out a white headband and a white shirt. He chose to ignore the glimmer of metal that had flashed at him.

“George Davidson.”

He was going to throw up.

Was he going to die here? Was he not going to get to say goodbye to his mother? His cat or his dog? His friends that were waiting for him to get back so they could stay up until the late hours of the night.

“I-I...” George tried to utter out, shakily lowering his hand from his mouth as he tried to breathe in, desperately trying to even out his breathing.

“Oh, don’t even try and spill out your pleads to me.” The stranger said, his feet shuffling slightly. “I’m not going to kill you. I mean, not if I don’t have to.”

George struggled to keep his panic down.

“It’s all going to be okay, George. Everything will be taken care of soon.”

George tried to speak. He tried to force words off of his tongue, to ask some sort of question.

Before he could say anything, the footsteps began once again, leaving a terrified George in his wake.

It took him several minutes to gather himself. The minutes felt like an eternity.

George took a few steps, his hand dragging against the rough wall. It was the only thing that he could feel. It was the only thing that was reminding him that everything that had just happened was real.

Everything felt fuzzy. His ears were ringing, his eyes blurry, causing the light that he was approaching to be a mess of color.

When he stepped out of the darkness, he looked down at his hands through his blurry vision. All he could see were a few faint lines of red, meaning that he had managed to scrape up his skin.

He fell to his knees, and threw up.

Every last drop of food that he has consumed for the last week came tunneling back up, burning his throat and leaving a disgusting taste in his mouth.

Bike burned his throat even worse than before, and tears were now streaming steadily down his face.

He had never been more terrified in his entire life.

George stood, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He blinked away the blur in his eyes, allowing him to see clearly for the first time in what felt like hours.

He began the trek home, his feet dragging against the concrete. The brit was questioning every choice that he had been making up until this moment.

Maybe he should have stayed home.

At least he would get to see his mother again. Once again.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up the next morning was something that George didn’t enjoy. His throat ached and his hand was sore, lending him barely capable of curling it. He wasn’t sure if the last time he had felt so downright shitty.

The small boy pushed himself into a sitting position, stretching his muscles and then rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Carefully and slowly, of course. It was immensely frustrating.

The events of the night before kept replaying in George’s mind, and if he hadn’t of thrown up everything he has in his system, he might have thrown up again then and there. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to handle eating.

He slowly stood from his bed, rubbing his bare feet against the carpet. It’s the only way he could remind him he was safe and at home. At least as safe as he could be. There was no doubt that the man from last night knew exactly where George lived.

How had everything gone to such shit in a single night?

George shuffled his way to the bathroom attached to his room, staring at himself in the mirror. God, he wished he could break the fucking mirror and never look at himself again.

He brushed his teeth furiously, and then left the bathroom. He wanted to be as far away from his sickly expression as he possibly could.

“Hi, honey.” George’s mom voice sounded through the kitchen as he took the last step off the stairs, the cold biting into his feet uncomfortably. He braced it, and instead walked towards the only voice that could bring him comfort.

He sat down at the bar, resting his cheek on his fist and giving his mom a fought smile. Her concern was evident.

“You look sick. Are you alright? Do you need me to get you some medicine?”

George stared at the woman before him, examining her face carefully. Each crevice and wrinkle and the shine in her eyes that managed to stay even in her moments of worry.

He shook his head, giving the woman a smile of dismissal.

“No, I’m fine.”

He was screaming internally at himself. George wanted to tell his mother everything. Each little detail. He wanted to warn her and tell her to pack up everything she owned and he was going to take them somewhere safe. Where whoever that was wouldn’t find them.

But he held back, because that threat that the stranger gave the other man still rang through his head.

_“Because if you do, I will murder every single person that you love and make you watch. You know good and damn well what I’m capable of.”_

“Are you sure? You can call into work and I can take care of you, you-“

“Mom,” George interrupted gently. “I promise, I’m not sick. I just didn’t get super great sleep last night. That’s it.”

“Do you promise?”

A wave of guilt and nausea washed over him, but he kept his composure.

“I promise.”

The older woman sighed in defeat, and sighed as he pushed a plate of food towards him.

“I’m not really that hungry, momma. I’ll eat later, okay? You can eat that, I know you’re hungry.”

George’s mother opened her mouth to protest, and no doubt to ask her son once again what was happening with, but ended up shutting it, leaving a tense silence in the air.

“I’m gonna go and get ready for work, okay? I got called in.” The brit lied, standing from the stool and turning to leave before his mom had the chance to speak. “Love you.”

George shut his door behind him, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly. At least he didn’t lie about not getting much sleep. One bright thing about that conversation full of dark.

Putting his work clothes on felt like a chore, and his hand never seemed to stop bothering him. Perhaps he should clean it? No, no. It felt like too much work. Too much to handle right now. It was a constant reminder of what happened.

When George went down the stairs and walked into the kitchen, it was empty. He wasn’t surprised, but part of him still wished that he saw his mother’s face again. To see her smile at him.

Maybe it would be the last time that he saw her.

George swallowed down his worry, and exited the apartment, and began his walk once more.

He avoided the alleyway entirely, settling for going the long way to work. It added about five minutes to his walk, but he would rather walk for a longer period of time than to walk back through the confines of that stupid little alleyway. Maybe he would never enter it again. Hopefully by choice.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and despite the fact that it was totally normal, George still felt panic latch onto his lungs, making him feel suffocated.

George kept his steady pace, deciding that he would rather not draw attention to himself. Surely it was just someone walking to work, right? There was nothing wrong. It wouldn’t be the same guy from last night, right? If he turned and looked, he wouldn’t see the white headband or messy hair. He would see someone professional.

As he continued walking and nothing happened, George calmed down, the panic slowly subsiding. Surely if something was going to happen, it would have happened already. He was almost at work. Everything was fine.

“I think this is far enough.”

The statement confused the brown haired boy, causing him to turn around.

All he saw was the stupid fucking white head band before his face erupted into pain and his vision went black.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one felt shorter,,, sorry chat. we meet mafia dream next chapter.

He didn’t know it was possible, but George felt even shittier waking up this time than he had the last. Now not only was his hand aching, but his nose was throbbing.

To add on to the fact, he had no clue where he was.

He knew he was on a bed, at least. There was a blindfold covering his eyes, and part of him wondered if it was the white headband belonging to the stranger that had put him in this situation.

George moved his head and groaned, a headache seemingly spawning. He sat up, and instinctively moved his hands up to remove the blindfold, but he couldn’t. Of course, his hands were handcuffed behind his back. Why wasn’t he surprised?

“Oh, you’re awake. Awesome.” A voice sounded. The same voice that spoke his name in that alleyway. Well, if he wasn’t sure he was fucked in the beginning, he sure was now.

“Where am I?”

“That seems to be the question, doesn’t it?”

George felt a wave of anger, but decided on biting his tongue. He was at the disadvantage here, he couldn’t afford to risk a fight. Not when he couldn’t even use his fists and he knew this guy probably had some sort of weapon on him.

“Okay, fine. Don’t answer that question,” George mumbled, shaking his head in annoyance. “Can you at least tell me who you are?”

“I guess,” The male said, and George could have swore he heard the stranger step towards him. “You can call me Sapnap.”

George had to physically bite his tongue to stop his retort. He really, really needed to keep his comments to himself if he wanted to live through this.

“Sapnap.”

The stranger was walking closer for sure this time, and George had to stop himself from tensing. Be natural, right? Is that the best thing to do here?

Light spawned in front of him.

George instantly looked up at Sapnap, examining the features that he hadn’t gotten the chance to look at last night. Brown hair messily hanging on his forehead, light stubble coating his jaw and chin. Average sized nose and nice eyes. He looked kind, even if he was the one who had bound George up on the bed.

Sapnap frowned at the look on George’s face, so the smaller male turned his head and examined the room. It was just a basic motel room, nothing special about it. Minus the couple weapons that sat on the table. He chose to ignore those, and turned his head back to his captor.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Sapnap let out a low chuckle.

“Listen, as much as I would love to, I can’t. It’s something I would need to take up with Boss first.”

“Uh,” George started, shaking his head in confusion. He didn’t ask any questions, since it was severely unlikely that he was going to get the answers to whatever his mouth spat out.

“You don’t talk much, do you? I expected you to ask more questions. You know, like, beg for your life?”

George just shrugged, turning his gaze down to his lap.

“Fine. I do have another question,”

He was met with silence, so he continued.

“If you’re going to take me somewhere, can we just go ahead and, like, do that? Take me to your boss or whoever you needed to take up my death with.”

Sapnap was taken aback, of course, but he hid his surprise. George was not acting in the way that he was used to people reacting. Granted, he usually had a weapon of some sort pressed to the victims skin, but it was still something odd to him.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Cool.”

Sapnap hesitated, but eventually grabbed George’s arm and pulled him up off the bed and onto his feet.

George was playing the best act he ever had. He was terrified, his mind screaming at him to find some point of weakness and to take advantage of it, but there wasn’t one. There was never a point of weakness when his entire existence was weak. He had no food in his system, his face as busted up, and he was already frail enough as it was. He was utterly screwed.

But he knew how to hide emotions well enough.

The two males left the motel room, and it was only then that George realized that they were the only ones that had checked in to it. Good thing he hasn’t decided to scream for help, because no one was going to come and save him now.

That reality hit him like a truck.

No one was going to save him.


	4. Chapter 4

The car ride was short, which was mildly surprising to George. He couldn't say that he wasn't glad that it was short, as his hands were still bound behind his back, and there was no good way to sit without the material rubbing his wrists raw. It was a frustrating discomfort.

He was still unaware of what, exactly, Sapnap was planning. He didn't know what this guy was a part of, or who this so called "boss" was. Was it like the boss he had at his grocery store job? Surely not, if Sapnap was having to negotiate murder with this guy.

It was dark and rainy out, and usually, George would find peace in this. He would like the sound of the rain hitting the top of the metal roof and would like the way that the rain would trickle down the window, racing each other in an unspoken game. But this time, it brought him nothing but discomfort and anxiety, deep rooted and permanent. It was a reminder that it was dangerous even outside, and there was no where that he was going to be able to run.

Not that he was exactly planning to run. He wasn't the most aerodynamic.

There were so many questions, and at this point, George was starting to try and piece it all together himself. But there was nothing for him to work with. There was nothing for him to use to even attempt to begin understanding what's going on and what he had gotten himself in to.

He even lacked the understanding as why, exactly, his life was at risk, but the other guy had just been paid off. Why wasn't he offered the money, too? Nothing was making sense.

The car pulled onto a rocky road leading deep into the woods. George was shaking, and he hadn't even realized it until he twitched against the restraint of the seatbelt. He was scared to the point of numbness.

He watched the trees pass by, gnawing on his bottom lip anxiously to the point of drawing blood. He licked the metallic liquid away.

The car stopped in front of quite a large house.

What the fuck.

George looked out of the windshield, peering at the light that was shining through the windows. Was this Sapnap's house? Why would someone like this take him to their house? What if he managed to get away? Surely this is extremely disclosed information.

"Boss told me to take you to him directly."

George snapped his eyes to Sapnap, his face etched with visible confusion. Once again, his mind was foggy and he was beginning to get a headache with the way the gears in his head turned, trying to make sense of everything that was going on.

"Come on."

George watched as the brown haired male stepped out of the drivers seat of the car, making his way to the back and opened up his door. He carefully stepped out of the vehicle, cringing at the way the wet earth squished beneath his feet and seeped into the holes in the bottom of his shoes. Every moment that passed brought more and more discomfort. And more and more panic.

They began the trek to the front of the house. It was a gorgeous place, but George didn't want to admire it. He didn't want to look around and learn the details of the place he was surely going to have his throat slit in.

Sapnap pressed the doorbell, and the ring that came from it could be heard from even the outside.

The door opened almost instantly, but not to anyone George thought would have been a boss.

It was another male, a grim look on his face. He had on a black hoodie, red lining the edges, and glasses that suit his face quite nicely. He, too, had a very welcoming look to him. He was roughly George's height, only standing at about an inch or so taller. If he weren't in the situation that he was, perhaps George may have offered him a smile.

"Hey, Bad. I'm assuming Boss told you to be here, right?"

George furrowed his eyebrows, looking between the two of them.

"Yeah, he did. Come on, he's waiting in the office."

They entered the house, Bad closing the door behind them.

George wanted nothing more than to turn and rush back to the door and run outside. He wanted nothing more than to feel the rain on his face and to smell the air. The moment that door had shut on him, he realized he wasn't sure when he was going to see the outside again. George wasn't sure the next time he was going to get to feel the sunlight on his skin, or even touch a tree. At this point, he was content with the feeling of the water in his shoes.

He had taken everything for granted. And now he was terrified.

They continued to walk through the house, making turns down hallways and arches. At this point, the smaller male was convinced that Sapnap was trying to confuse him, trying to leave him dazed if he tried to run.

George didn't have any fight in him. None that he wanted to show yet, at least. Surely there would be a better opportunity.

The three approached two large double black doors, stopping in front of them. This was it, wasn't it?

Sapnap opened the door, and shoved George inside. The sudden force almost sent him to his knees, but he managed to scramble to his balance and push himself up. The taller boy grabbed his arm roughly, surely harsh enough to leave bruises in their wake. Where did this sudden aggression come from? George thrashed slightly against the grip, letting himself be lead to the desk.

He looked up, letting his eyes lock with the man before him. There was a mask covering the top half of his face, a simple black smiley face drawn on it. The guy was wearing a black suit, his legs crossed with his hands sitting on top of his knee. There was a small, faint smile resting on his face, but it was anything but warm and welcoming. It was unsettling and tense, and it stirred George's fight or flight. It was almost bad enough that he considered turning his head away, but refused. He didn't want to seem weak. He could do that in private.

If he ever made it somewhere private.

"Here he is, Boss. Uninjured just like you asked." Sapnap said, the smile evident in his voice.

The boss's head tilted slightly, much like that of a confused puppy.

"Is that so, Sapnap? Then why is there a blood trail from the poor boy's lip? And why are you holding on to him hard enough to leave bruises?"

The voice was entrancing. Warm. Welcoming. Unlike the mouth that it was coming from. If George wasn't convinced he was going to be slaughtered any second, then perhaps he would desire to hear more of this man speak.

The grip on his arm loosened slightly when the man sitting at the desk stood. Now it was Sapnap's turn to be mildly fearsome. It brought a strange sense of happiness to George.

But the boss didn't stop in front of Sapnap.

He stopped in front of George.

The faint smugness that had come to him was gone in an instant. This man had at least four inches of height on him, with George's head stopping just above where this guys shoulders started. If he couldn't win in a fight against Sapnap, he sure as hell wouldn't win in a fight against this guy.

Fingers pressed to his jaw, forcing his head to tilt all the way upwards. The smaller of the two swallowed tensely, peering at the mask that was resting on this person's face. It was smooth and shiny, and probably costs more than what George had made in the last year, if he was going off of how expensive this house looked. There seemed to be two small holes in the material, but they were too small for him to see inside of. So that's how he saw out of, huh?

A finger brushed against the dried blood on his face, then against the bridge of his nose. George bit back his hiss of pain, but couldn't help the small flinch that came with it.

"Not broken, but your septum is probably bent out of place. I will have someone look at that soon, okay? But you probably have a lot questions. I do too."

George furrowed his eyebrows, his mouth opening and closing like a fish fresh out of water. This all felt like a dream. Like at any moment he would wake up in the comfort of his own bed, his cat perched at the bottom of his bed. Deep down, that's what he wished it was. But he knew it was too good to be true.

"Uh," George started, swallowing once more. "Yes, actually, I do."

The boss in front of him nodded, turning his masked face to Sapnap.

"I guess you did what I asked you to. There isn't any serious injury. Your payment is on the counter," He started, moving away from George and making his way back to his chair. "There's someone else that you need to go and, well, deal with, if you understand what I mean. Bad will see you out of here and tell you all about it. Won't you, bad?"

The smile that came across the strangers face was cold and demanding. Even if Bad didn't want to go, there was clear intent behind that smile. He would have been a fool to reject.

The two males left the office quickly, closing the doors behind them.

George was alone with someone he had been brought to so his life could be determined. How was he supposed to handle a situation like this.

"George, have a seat."


	5. Chapter 5

George moved forward, his feet feeling like they had weights tied to them. Every step forward felt like he was walking through mud, and he was going to drown in it while the weights drug him down.

“Nothing is going to happen to you, George. Not unless you make it happen.”

That didn’t relieve a single thing in his heart.

George sat down in the chair, adjusting himself uncomfortably due to the binds still on his wrists. He was dreading the moment that he finally got released and he was able to see the angrily red flesh and wounds from the rope burn. He was dreading being released from his binds at all, because he wasn’t sure at all what that was going to entail.

“So,” The boss started, crossing his leg over the other. “Obviously this is something you’ve never been faced with. You have a lot of questions, don’t you?”

George stayed silent.

“Okay,” The boss said, slowly nodding his head as he processed his thoughts. “Well, I guess that I can tell you some basic information.”

George, once again, said nothing. There was nothing that his brain could come up that would be a response. His mind was blank, clouded with his fear.

“You can call me Dream. Everyone else will probably call me boss, but since you aren’t one of them, you can call me Dream.” The male said, offering a slight smile.

George hated that smile. He hated those lips that formed them. He hated the dimples and he hated the slight exposure of teeth. He hated all of it.

“Dream.”

Dream nodded slowly, listening to the way his name rolled off the males tongue. It sounded nice.

“What are you the boss of?” George asked, looking at Dream.

As good as the mafia boss was at reading people, he couldn’t place George’s emotion through his eyes. He would be lying if that said he wasn’t mildly concerned by that, but he wouldn’t let that show.

“The mafia.”

George felt lightheaded.

He felt a whole new wave of sickness. The fucking _mafia._ He had gotten himself caught up just by walking into the alleyway when he had. If he would have just left a few minutes later than everything would have been fine.

“George? Are you alright?” Dream asked, uncrossing his legs and shifting his body forward slightly, trying to get a better view of the smaller male.

George almost laughed in the mans face. How was he supposed to be okay in a situation like this? Sitting in front of a mafia boss with his hands tied behind his back, not sure if he was ever going to see the light of day again.

He swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut as he let himself at least attempt to gather his thoughts.

“Uh,” The Brit started, swallowing his nerves down once again. “Okay. Yeah, I’m fine. So, like, what do you do? As- erm- as a-“

George couldn’t get the words out. He tried, he had tried so hard to force himself into a state of relative calm, but it didn’t work. He could barely keep his body still. He wasn’t sure when he had started shaking, but he did know that it was causing him pain.

“As a,” Dream nodded his understanding. He couldn’t help but understand the fear from the other male. But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t feeling minor annoyance. “Yes, well, I’m not too sure if you want to know that just yet.”

George felt like he was going to pass out.

His entire body was shaking, his mind racing at a million miles an hour, causing him an extreme headache. His wrists were being burned and cut with the coarse rope, no doubt his shaking wasn’t necessarily helping this cause.

“Listen, George,”

“Don’t call me by my name.”

The words came out before he even had a chance to think about them, and the moment he did, he felt even more fear than he had before. George was sitting in front of a mafia boss, and he had just snapped at him. He had just given Dream orders, when he was absolutely in no position to do so.

Silence followed. It wasn’t tense, but it wasn’t comfortable.

“Okay,” Dream said after a moment of pulling his anger back. “Fine. But listen to me, okay? Nothing is going to happen to you. Nothing is going to happen to your family, either. I promise.”

George was hoping that the words would ease up some of his emotions and take some of this unbearable weight off of his shoulders, but it didn’t. If anything, the promise was unnerving. How was he meant to trust someone that had him bound?

“And I know that this is all probably super crazy to you,” Dream said as he stood up, the sound of his chair wheels echoing off the walls of the large room. “But you have to trust me. You don’t have much of a choice anymore.”

George looked up, furrowing his eyebrows as he watched Dream begin to circle around his desk. He stopped in front of the furniture, leaning against it while staring down at George. The sound of his rings hitting the wood cause the smaller to flinch and glance down at the boss’s hands.

“What do you mean?” George finally asked, his voice quieter than it had been this entire day. He tilted his head upward, staring up at that haunting mask before him.

“I mean,” Dream said, tilting his head slightly. “That you know I can’t just let you go right? I cant let you roam around knowing where we’re located and who my henchmen are. That’s dangerous for us.”

George let the words sink into his mind, settling into each and every crevice of his brain and stapling itself there, making its own home.

“You- No,” George said, shaking his head as his eyes began to burn, the unfamiliar flame lighting up behind his iris’s. “Please, no. You can trust me, Dream. I promise. I-I don’t even know your name! What could anyone do with the name Dream?” He spilt our frantically, his accent causing some of his words to sound slurred. 

He was struggling to breath, and it wasn’t benefitting his panic that he could barely see due to the tears that had settled into his tear ducts. He forcefully blinked them away, looking up at Dream with wide, pleading eyes. There was nothing more than he could do other than beg and plead, hoping that the mafia boss would feel some sort of pity and let him go home.

Dream bit down on his bottom lip and looked away from the scene before him. It would have been so much easier if he had let Sapnap and Bad kill this kid and dispose of his body somewhere, but for some reason, he couldn’t do it.

When George had walked into the large office, Dream felt a need to protect him. He wasn’t sure why, as he was sure that the smaller male was okay enough to hold his own, but he felt it. He wouldn’t have forgave himself if he let him die and rot away somewhere deep in the woods.

“You know that isn’t true,” Dream started, tapping his fingers against the edge of the desk. “You know that the moment you feel that there is an opening, you will tell someone.”

George felt his frustration rise. He knew that he wouldn’t tell anyone if it meant that he would get to see his mother again. If it meant that he would get to see his animals and curl up in his bed. 

“I wouldn’t,” He said weakly, his voice choked and muffled due to the lump that had formed in his throat and the stuffiness of his nose. “I promise you I wouldn’t. I cant just- I cant just leave my mum, she would be worried sick not knowing where I am.”

Dream’s jaw clenched, George saw that much through his blurry vision. He could practically see the gears in the bosses head turning.

“Please.” George said one last time. He didn’t know what else to do. It’s not like he could offer money. Even if he could afford to do so, he knew that the man standing before him didn’t necessarily need it.

“There’s a room prepared for you.” Dream said after a while, taking a step away and turning his back to George. “Sapnap and Bad are gonna come and grab you soon, and they’re going to take you to your room. Everything you need will already be there. Clothes and such, as well as a meal. I’m sure you haven’t eaten today.”

George felt defeated. There was nothing that he was going to be able to do in this situation.

“You can bathe if you’d like, too. Someone will be there to tend to your wrists as well. I’ll be sure to arrange the binds be removed, but there will be be monitoring outside just in case.”

“Dream-“ George started, nearly standing up out of the chair to begin his pleading, but he was interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

Dream turned to look at his two men, and gave them a small nod. His eyes, or rather, his masks eyes never met George’s own, even as he stared at the man while he was practically dragged from the room.

If only he hadn’t walked down that damned alleyway.


	6. Chapter 6

Walking into that room made George feel like he was walking into a prison cell, despite the fact that the room was far from small.

In fact, it was elegant. It was large, and the carpet _looked_ soft. The bed was large, with silk red sheets and a large, puffy comforter, and a fresh plate of food sitting on the bedside table. It seemed that there was a large bathroom attached to the room. It was more extravagant than anything he had ever stayed in before.

Yet he still loathed it. He hated the soft lights and the large windows overlooking the backyard. This room was probably larger than his entire apartment that he shared with his mother, but he still wished that he was in his cramped room where he barely had enough room to move.

Sapnap pushed George further into the room, causing him to stumble slightly. He turned his attention away from the room and faced the two males before him, frowning lightly at them.

They both stared at him, and the smaller male had never felt more vulnerable and naked. He averted his eyes, looking down at his dirty clothes.

“We’re gonna take the ropes off,” Sapnap said after a while, moving quickly enough to make George flinch at the unexpected movement. It seemed like within a blink of an eye, the taller male was across the room and cutting the ropes off of George’s wrist.

Sapnap pocketed the knife and moved to stand in front of George.

“There’s a clean pair of clothes sitting in the bathroom for you if you want to bathe or something, and I’m sure you’ve noticed the food,” He said, looking at George with blank eyes. No empathy shone there.

George said nothing, just stared up at Sapnap and gave a short nod.

Sapnap and Bad turned away, shutting the heavy door behind them.

Now he was alone.

George allowed himself to finally look down at his wrist, which were hanging awkwardly at his sides. They had been bound behind his back for so long that even having them in their natural spot felt wrong.

The skin that was usually smooth and pale was now pink and cut, and painfully sore. He rolled the joints, wincing at the open wounds. He wondered when he would have them tended to.

George let his hands fall back down to his sides as he turned to face the bed, walking towards it. Every step felt like he was treading through tar, but he made it. He threw himself down, letting out a small groan at the soreness of his body that he hadn’t noticed until this moment.

The mattress was soft and molded around his body, and the sheets ran easily over his skin. They were soft, softer than anything that he had ever had on his own bed. He ran his hands over them a few more times before he turned his attention to the plate of food that was sitting next to the bed.

He was hesitant, to say the least. George felt like he hadn’t eaten in weeks, but he wasn’t sure if he trusted the food that was offered to him by the mafia.

Part of him hoped that it would be poisoned. Part of him hoped that the food was laced with a deadly powder or liquid that would rip his insides apart until he passed out and never woke back up again.

George reached for the food.

It looked fine. It smelled fine. He was partly let down that there weren’t any evident signs of tampering on the bread.

He wondered when this food had been made, since it looked like an entire meal that you made on something like the holidays. Surely no one would have had time to make him something while he spoke to Dream.

A plate full of potatos, bread, ham, and green beans could not be made in a span of twenty minutes.

George ate the food quickly, worrying that if he waited then it would come right back up.

He set the empty plate aside, biting down on the inside of his cheek. He let his eyes linger on the blank ceramic, his fingers fiddling with a stray strand on his dirty jeans.

George stood, glancing around the room once again. It was so terribly unfamiliar, and with each passing second he felt more and more like a prisoner. It was suffocating.

He made his way to the bathroom, taking in the new scenery. Marble countertops and cold linoleum flooring. A large bathtub sat underneath a large window overlooking the opposite side of the house, moonlight streaming in and casting a nice white glow on the ceramic. It was inviting, to say the least.

A walk in shower sat adjacent to the bath, and two shower heads pointed from both directions. It, too, was very inviting.

George looked at himself in the mirror for the first time in forever, and he grimaced at the sight.

His upper lip and nose was caked in dried blood, and dirt and grime littered his face. His hair was a mess, pointing up and each different way. He looked like an entirely different person, and he hated that.

He turned away from the mirror quickly, swallowing down the lump in his throat. Clean clothes sat in the end of the counter, along with a soft looking towel. He might as well clean himself off, right?

George made his way over to the bathtub, fiddling with the cold metal of the handles until he managed to find a decent temperature. Steam was rising off of the water, fogging up the bottom half of the glass of the window.

Stripping off the dirty clothes felt like unchaining heavy weights from his body. He felt so much lighter.

Stepping into the hot water was even more euphoric.

George sank his entire body underneath the water, letting it relax his tense muscles like a flame melting wax. For a moment, he forgot that he was in the house of a mafia boss and that he was being held inside of this house against his own will.

He scrubbed the dirt and grime and blood off of his body, ignoring the way that his skin cried to him to stop because he was hurting himself, scrubbing the flesh raw and pink. 

George sat in the bath until the water ran cold and he was shivering. Even then, he sat in the water for a while. He liked the way the cold reminded him that he was real.

It wasn’t until he could barely feel his fingers or feet before he finally removed himself from the freezing water. He continued to shiver, even as he threw the towel over his shoulders.

Putting on the clothes given to him was a struggle. Everything was still aching, albeit not as badly, and his body was warming up at a slow pace.

The clothes were soft, though, and loose fitting. He wasn’t sure if that was intentional, or if perhaps he was just too thin to fit properly into the clothes. He didn’t have the same muscle as the other men in the household. 

George crawled back into the bed, throwing the heavy covers over his cold body, all while reaching over and turning the lamp off, casting the large room in shadows.

He closed his eyes, pulling the covers up to his chin.

As he fell into a restless sleep, he could have sworn he heard the opening of his door, but there was nothing left in him to care.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter, but a little development :)

The days had slipped away from George like sand through his fingertips. He didn’t have his phone on him, presumably taken by Sapnap when he was knocked out, and there was no calendar hanging anywhere, so he was at a loss for what day it truly was.

George spent most of his time sleeping and soaking himself in boiling hot water. He wasn’t sure the last time that he even spoke was.

He was given a toothbrush and his own full sized bottles of body wash, as well as a closet full of clothes.

Unfamiliar faces came in and out of his room, and part of him wishes that Sapnap would walk in and let George even glance at the damned white headband, even if he loathed it.

A loud clash sounded outside, causing him to flinch. Everything had been painstakingly quiet the entire time he had been here. So quiet to the point he had started to get used to the loudness of his own breathing, and ended up finding comfort in it.

There were footsteps running down hallways that George wasn’t familiar with, and shouting. The sound of voices was foreign to him after being sat in silence for what he assumed was at least a few days.

He crawled further up on his bed, bringing his knees to his chest and curling into a ball, trying to manage the shaking that was slowly overtaking his body. It could have been a completely calm and tame thing, and George would still be sent into a full panic.

His door swung open, harsh enough for the door handle to leave a dent in the wall. He shook more, taking in the sight of the male before him.

It was Dream, his chest rising and falling as he stood in the doorway. George still couldn’t see his face, the mask was still sitting on the upper half of his face, though it was lopsided now. Like he had thrown it on quickly to come down here.

“George,”

George flinched at the sound of his own name.

Dream’s body relaxed, looking significantly less frantic. He let his head drop down, his dirty blonde hair falling with the movement.

George kept his eyes locked on Dream, his body trembling as he let his mind run rampant with all the possibilities of why, exactly, this dangerous man has decided he needed to come down to this room so quickly.

“Sapnap decided to prank me and tell me you were gone,” Dream started, his voice void of emotion save for the slight hint of annoyance.

George’s shaking subsided slightly when he realized that Dream wasn’t holding any weapon. At least not one that was visible. That at least meant that he wasn’t going to die. Yet.

“Dream,” He started quietly, cringing when that blank eyed mask looked upwards, the mostly hidden face looking in his direction once again.

“Uh, what-“ George hesitated. “What day is it?”

Dream was silent for a moment, and there were no doubt in his mind that if the boss’s face wasn’t covered, his eyebrows would be furrowed.

“It’s Friday,”

George let the information settle in his mind, casting his eyes downward to the rustled red sheets beneath him. He was brought here on Tuesday. At least he was right about his assumption that he had been here for a few days.

“What are you going to do with me?”

He was met with silence.

George looked up, to see that Dream was looking away from him now. 

Frustration was growing by the second. He was being held a captive in this house and he couldn’t even get the answers that he wanted.

“I don’t,” Dream started, clearing his throat as he let himself process his words. “I don’t really know yet.”

George nodded, letting his legs fall from his chest and fall into a butterfly form. He was still shaking, but not as badly. He was still terrified, yes, but he was handling it better than he was a few moments before.

“Can you,” George hesitated again, a long moment of tense silence hanging in the air between them. It was nearly suffocating. “Can you let me out if this room sometimes? I’m not asking for a long. Even once every couple of days.”

George was aware of how desperate and pleading he sounded, and he partly hated himself for it. He hated that his voice had gone weak and higher pitched, like a toddler asking his mother for something he knew he was going to be told no to.

Dream let out a sigh, and George moved, now on his knees in the center of his bed.

“Please. You can even tie my hands behind my back again if you don’t trust me. Sapnap, and- and Bad can guard me. I just want somewhere to go.”

Dream looked at George now, and his breath nearly caught in his throat, but he composed himself.

George watched as Dream took a step backwards towards the hallway that, at this point, George would give anything to walk down, even if just once.

He almost started pleading again, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak, or move, for that matter.

Dream opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it once again. He grabbed the door handle, and moved the door almost to a close.

George hung his head, waiting for the sound of the lock clicking and leaving him to his confines once more.

“Let me, uh,” Dream said through the crack of the door. “Let me think about it,”

George felt a hope blossom in his chest.

“If I allow you to do this, I’m going to need you to help me out, if you can.”

That hope went away as soon as it came.

The door shut, and the lock clicked once again. Not the usual several locks that he had gotten used to, but still a lock. A reminder that he couldn’t get out if he tried.

There was mumbling, then footsteps, and then George was shut in silence again, alone with nothing but his thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8

Three more days that George stayed locked up in the room that he had grown so painfully familiar with. Three days and little to no sleep, pushing around food on ceramic plates, and three days of missing the way things were almost two weeks ago.

Every day that passed made him miss his mother more and more, and each day made him worry for her more and more. He couldn't even begin to imagine how she must be feeling, having not heard from her son for the longest period of time of their relationship. Did she file a missing persons report? Did she maybe flee to the cops, and told them all about their last morning that they shared together? Did she look at pictures of him every day, worried that he was laying somewhere in a ditch?

Was she even worried at all?

George was sat in front of the large window, watching the lawn keeper walk around the fencing of the house, pouring water carefully on plants to provide them with the simulated rainfall that they needed to survive. It had become one of the things that the Brit came to look forward to. He liked watching the servants here run back and forth out of the house, tending to various different things.

A knock sounded at his door, but he didn't move. He didn't call out, telling the person on the other side of the wall to come in and visit him.

Dream had begun to send new people each day, and they all tried to speak to him. They all asked him questions, offered to bring him anything that he wanted. Their efforts were futile, because all George did was shut them out. He gave no one a response, only occasionally dropping them a saccharine smile that was so clearly forced it made everyone uncomfortable to look at.

He appreciated the gesture, but he couldn't bring himself to feel much of anything anymore. Some nights he would have a random burst of panic, and he would shake until his body ached and he could barely feel anything. Sometimes, he would go into a manic fit and laugh for hours on end until his stomach was cramping and tears were streaming down his cheeks. He didn't know the best way for him to cope with what was happening, but he wasn't too sure that this was it.

The door creaked open, and George finally turned.

Dream was standing before him, a small smile playing on his lips, but it quickly turned into a frown.

"Hello,"

George was silent, staring at Dream, eyes void of any emotion. It was fitting, really, since he was entirely numb.

The silence between them was tense and uncomfortable, but neither were ready to come face to face with that yet. Not with Dream barely understanding how to handle people that inconvenience him without painting the walls with their brains, and George being scared that he was going to be the one that got shot.

They were both scared, but for two entirely different reasons.

"You asked me," Dream said as he made his way further into the room, leaving the door open behind him. "Something a few days ago."

_There it is, George. There is your escape. Go. Take it. Die for even a small glimpse of the outside world._

George glanced at the open door, then back at Dream. It was at this moment when he realized that he should have taken full advantage of all the food that had been given to him. He would be all to weak to try and get up and shove past the mafia boss, and far too weak to try and take on the guards that were posted outside of his door. He would be dead before he even exited the hallway.

At this point, that didn't sound so bad.

Dream stood beside George, peering down at him.

"I'm going to take you out," Dream said slowly, letting the words make their landing. "We can go out into the garden. I know that you seem to like that, the lawn keeper says that she sees you all the time."

George remained seated, but his heart was racing. A chance to go outside. A chance to feel something other than his sheets and boiling water between his fingers. Fresh air. Flowers.

He turned his head back towards the window, peering out once again at the gated land.

Dream sucked on his teeth, looking down at George with a newfound frustration.

"Listen, if you literally asked me,"

"Let me put on some shoes,"

The voice that cut off his sentence was weak, tender and slight. Broken, if you will. That still didn't stop the annoyance that bubbled in Dream's chest as the interruption.

George stood, taking once last glance out of the window before turning on his heel and making his way to the opposite side of the bed, where he had decided to keep his shoes. Having them close, easily accessible. Of course, he didn't exactly wear them much, but it was still a minor comfort to him.

He pulled the shoes on to his feet, tying them with shaking fingers. He had found himself repeatedly tying his laces together one night, pulling at the strings until his fingers turned raw. Just to feel like he was going somewhere. Like he was doing something other than rotting away.

Dream moved to stand in the doorway, watching as George stood and shuffled his feet slightly.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,”

Dream hated that George was handling this so badly. He hated that he wasn’t able to let him go, but he knew how things would go down. He knew how quickly they would be ratted out.

George shuffled forward, and took the first step out into the hallway.

Dream followed closely behind him, but even with the ever-long presence of someone breathing over his shoulder, he felt so much more freedom than he had since he got here.

George let his eyes hungrily take in every detail of the walls surrounding him. Large, with random paintings and photos littering the wall.

He couldn’t help but notice that all the family pictures that that were hung had a face of a boy scribbled out of them.

They made their way to the hallway, and approached the doors that George had been pushed into several nights ago. 

“This is obviously the entrance. The doors to go out to the driveway, as you know,” Dream awkwardly, smoothing out some non-existent wrinkles in his suit. “To the left will take you to the kitchen. Nothing super fancy about it, just a kitchen. Pretty similar interior to the bathrooms, minus the, ya know, toilets and stuff,”

George wanted to laugh, but couldn’t bring himself to do so. He just stayed silent, taking everything in like he had been blind all of his life and had just been granted the gift of vision.

“Right will take you to the living room,” Dream said, gesturing to the room where you could catch a glimpse at a couch, and a large mounted TV on the wall.

George wasn’t sure what exactly he expected, but the casualness of the entire house was so odd to him. He didn’t expect things to look like a normal place, not with a mafia boss living inside of it.

What did he expect, though? A torture chamber? Weapons and drugs littering everything that they could?

Dream took hold of his shoulder, and began to drag him through the kitchen. It was pretty, the marble countertops contrasting nicely with the black cabinets.

They approached the door that led outside, sunlight streaming through the small window that sat at the top of the door. It was warm against George’s skin, and he couldn’t wait to be immersed in the warmth of the sun.

Dream opened the door and let out a long breath, like he had been holding it in for far too long.

George stepped out quickly, and he took a large, intense breath of the cool air that surrounded him. He let his lungs fill repeatedly, letting the oxygen fill him like some sort of drug. It was the most addicting thing, and he didn't think that he was ever going to get enough of the feeling.

Dream cringed at himself when he felt guilt weave its way through his bloodstream. George looked like he had just seen the outside world for the first time in his life, excitement painting his face with a flush on his cheekbones and the sunlight beating down on him and causing his pale skin to glow like gold.

George rushed over to the rose bushes, hand instantly reaching out and brushing carefully along the blood red pedals. They reminded him of the bed that awaiting his small body inside the house, but this red was so much more inviting. More warm and promising. It was blooming with life, releasing the energy that George didn't know that he needed until he had touched the flower.

There were colors everywhere, he had noticed. They were so much nicer to look at up close, and the small male didn't think that he was going to have enough time to look at them and give each of the flowers individual attention, no matter how badly he desired to do so.

Dream watched George carefully through his mask, leaning against one of the columns that bordered the cemented porch. The hilt of his knife dug uncomfortably into his hip, reminding him that it was there in the case that George tries to do anything funny.

But something about the way that George was looking at the flowers with such raw adoration, he didn’t think he was going to do anything.

Dream shifted, trying to move the knife to a more comfortable position.

Would he even be able to bring himself to kill George if he had to? Would he want that death on his hands? Would he be able to live with the ghost feeling of the boy’s blood?

Dream cringed at himself, forcing the thought into the dark depths of his mind. He couldn’t allow himself to go all weak now.

George was sat in the grass now, feeling the green blades between his fingertips. He dragged his fingers against individual pieces, loving the way that the slightly rough edges caught against his fingertips.

He was in paradise out here, a genuine small smile tugging on his features for the first time in two weeks.

Dream made a mental note to allow this more often, even if just to see George smile once again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i think that i should preface that george is not colorblind in this story, if that wasn't obvious already. i find describing colors to be all too fun.

“You’re being odd,”

Dream slammed his book down, looking up at the voice that interrupted him from his activities.

He was met with the sight of his best friend, arms crossed over his chest and his face taut with anger.

“What do you mean?” Dream retorted, not bothering to even attempt to keep the harsh tone out of his voice. He was never one to back down from aggression.

Sapnap scoffed, the sound echoing angrily off the mostly bare walls of Dream’s office.

“Are you fucking stupid? You know what I mean,”

Dream simply offered a fake smile, tilting his head to the side in a feigned curiosity.

“Oh my fucking god. Sometimes I hate you,”

“Likewise,”

Sapnap ignored the comment, tucking his tongue into his cheek and biting down on it as if it would keep the words engrained into his tongue.

“Why is George still alive, Dream?”

Dream swallowed, but didn’t allow himself to react.

He wasn’t even sure of this himself. He had the blood of dozens of innocent people on his hands just because they saw something that they shouldn’t have, yet for some reason, he couldn’t execute the order to kill George.

Sapnap moved and sat in the chair that was across Dream’s desk, his hands tightly gripping the arms of the furniture. He was surprised that it didn’t splinter and send shards of wood into his palms.

He was angry, to put it simply. George was going to cause more problems then was necessary.

“We can’t keep him around, Dream,” Sapnap said after he was met with more silence. “You know he’s going to cause problems, and will just remain a pest,”

Dream clenched his jaw, but he let the words sink in. He tried to restrain himself, subconsciously putting a leash on his intense emotion and pull it back. Pull, pull, pull.

“You don’t know what-“

“Shut up!” Dream yelled, his voice echoing through the room harshly and vibrating through both men. “You do _not_ get to tell me whether or not I know what I’m doing,”

Sapnap stared at his best friend with wide eyes. They had argued and snapped before, but neither of them had ever screamed at the other. Despite his large build and sheer strength, he was scared of the man before him.

“I run what we do perfectly. _You_ do not run anything. You do not tell me what to do and you do not criticize me,” Dream said, his knuckles slamming down on the wood of the desk, a loud _crack_ sounded, and Sapnap wasn’t sure if it was the desk or his friend’s fist. “Are we clear?”

Silence met the two of them, louder than any yelling either of them could have done.

“We’re clear.” Sapnap said tensely, his voice low, hurt lacing the words.

“Great,” Dream said, sitting back down in his chair, and looking towards his computer, then at the papers on his desk. “We have another order,”

“Do we?”

The atmosphere of the room was tense and could be cut through with a dull knife, but both of them had too much pride to even begin to apologize, so they ignored it. They would avoid each other until one of them cracked. That’s how it always went.

“Yes,” Dream said, looking at his bleeding knuckles. They were already beginning to bruise, and there was red streaks of liquid streaming down his pale flesh. “I’m going to come with you to it tomorrow, since the people that asked for it are notorious for flaking and cutting people short. I want to be sure that they pay us right,”

“Cartel?”

“Similar to,” Dream said, flexing his hand in and out of a fist. Not broken, thankfully. He would need it for tomorrow.

“Got it,” Sapnap mumbled, sitting back in the chair in an attempt to relax. “And what are we going to do about George? We can’t leave him here, the servants are nowhere near strong enough to keep him here, and we’re going to need all the men that we can to fight if we need to,”

“You act as if George is big and muscular,” Dream said, crossing his arms over his chest, ignoring the blood that may stain his suit. “I’m not too sure he’s been eating properly, so he probably couldn’t get out,”

“We shouldn’t take the risk,”

“He’s been here for two weeks and you already want to expose him to the violence?” Dream asked incredulously, sour laughter rising from his throat.

“Why not?”

Dream ground his teeth together, tilting his head back to the ceiling. Every word that made this conversation progress made his stress levels rise, and at this point, he wished it would cause him to go into a stroke.

“Dream, you know he could be useful to us, right?” Sapnap questioned, his leg crossing his knee. “If we aren’t going to kill him, that is. He’s enrolled in college for, well, I guess he isn’t enrolled now, but he _enrolled_ for computer science. He could hack into shit, probably.”

The idea of introducing George to this plague was unappealing beyond relief, but Sapnap did have a very good point. Both him and Sapnap’s skills with the computer were extremely basic, and neither of them could hack into anything.

“We’ll bring him tomorrow,” Dream said simply, not a single sign that he processed the words that Sapnap had said to him, but they were swirling around in his mind like a tornado.

Why would the reward be for George helping them? No matter what, it wasn’t like he could offer freedom. Or perhaps he could, but if he did, there would never be any privacy for the boy. Very limited, at least.

It was a win-lose situation, and Dream was all about fairness.

“And put him where?” Sapnap questioned.

“I don’t know. Do we want him inside? Bringing a random guy to a massive drug deal. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person that’s touched a drug in his entire life,” Dream said, tapping his bruised fingers against his desk, the shooting pain that went up his wrist bringing him comfort. “Plus, we don’t exactly know how it’s going to end. I would hate for his first experience with us to be deadly,”

“None of them are ever necessarily safe, Dream,” Sapnap said, his tone slightly teasing. It was his way of trying to ease the atmosphere.

Dream chuckled, his long fingers coming to a stop.

“You’re right,” He said, nodding his head slightly. “I guess we can just let him watch from afar. I’ll be doing most of the talking, you or Bad could just sit in the car with him,”

“Where is it taking place?” Sapnap questioned.

“Same place people like them usually pick up at. That big storage building a little drive away. You know what I’m talking about, right?”

Sapnap nodded.

“There,” Dream said, looking at his computer screen again, where the order details were sitting. “I called the truck already, they should be there right before the meet time. Of course, they don’t know that,”

They ran a website on the dark web. Really hard to find, but if you looked hard enough, you would find it. It was disguised pretty well, and only people that truly knew what they were looking for understand what half the things on the page meant. It was the most discreet way to do things.

Sapnap cringed at the idea of the drugs that they were supposed to be selling getting to the meeting spot before they got there, but he bit his tongue, deciding that he would rather not have his best friend shouting at him for the second time within the hour.

“Right, yeah,” He said, raising a hand to adjust the fabric that was always tied around his head.

Dream nodded, eyes skimming over the page once again. His mask sat at arms length away on the side of his desk, waiting for him to grab it and slide over his face. It was nice to look at things without looking through the two small black holes.

“If we keep him in a set spot, away from everyone else and out of sight of those stupid fucks,” Dream let out a little sigh. “Then no one will try and hurt him,”

Sapnap cringed at the statement, but said nothing about it.

“I’ll see if I can’t convince Bad to sit in the car with him. What happens if they decide they don’t want to do the deal inside? He could just watch from the car window,” Sapnap said, swinging his foot back and forth.

Dream tapped his fingers against the desk again, listening to the soft, rhythmic thumps that came from it.

“Then there’s nothing that we can do about that,” He said, tilting his head back once again and closing his eyes. “He’s just going to have to choose to watch everything go down or not,”

Sapnap nodded, looking towards the large window that overlooked the trees in the distance.

“Maybe then he’ll realize I’m not a monster,”

Sapnap stood up and left, leaving Dream alone to regret his own words.


End file.
